


Maybe it's All Part of a Plan

by promisingstyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas Fluff, I hope this is cute idk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:04:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promisingstyles/pseuds/promisingstyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas High School AU. Harry is sick, Louis talks way too much and much too fast. They meet in the toilets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe it's All Part of a Plan

Harry _will_ make it through this. He _has_ to.

_Or not,_ he thinks as he starts coughing yet again. He is in the middle of his biology test, is the thing, only he's quite sick and he shouldn't be at school, really. It's just- it's the day before Christmas holidays and he _needs_ to do this test if he's going to get the grade he wants in this class, and his teacher said that nobody was allowed taking the test once their two week break was over.

Basically, Harry's life kind of sucks right now, but he's trying to deal with it.

He tries to concentrate on the paper in front of him. _Question 5. Focus. This organelle functions in ce-_

- _fuck_.

Harry attempts to cough as subtly into his hand as possible, sniffling and grabbing another tissue from the stash he's got in his pocket. He is planning on leaving as soon as the test is over. The girl to his right gives him a glare and he grins sheepishly back, grabbing his pencil once again. He looks back down at his paper, ready to write, when, _double fuck_ , the cough is back. Only this time, it's a _tickle_.

Harry frantically tries to muffle the sound as much as possible by burying the lower half of his face into his elbow, but it's no use. The tickle is there to stay.

He sees Niall look over at him in concern, eyebrow raised. He's coughed a solid fifteen times in a row, now, and is not showing any signs of stopping. Harry's lungs are starting to hurt. Tears well up in his eyes, and he coughs so hard he gags a little. He looks over at his teacher in panic, breathing in to try and speak, but the breath is knocked out of him a second later as soon as he feels the air hit that damn tickle spot in the back of his throat.

“Excus-” he manages to get out, tears now fully streaming down his face. He manages to catch a worried-looking nod through the water in his eyes, and walks out of the classroom, avoiding everyone's concerned gazes on him.

Harry stumbles into the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet. He is gasping for air, still coughing, louder than ever. He gags again, feeling bile rise in his throat, and leans over, spitting it out. At this point, he's completely given up on any hope that he'll finish his biology test. He just needs to fucking _breathe._ Suddenly, he feels a warm hand on his back, rubbing up and down. “Yeah, that's it, babes. Get it all out.”

Harry doesn't know what the fuck is going on. Maybe he's so sick he's hallucinating. He coughs again, whimpering loudly at the end as he feels his chest ache. “It's alright. Here, I brought eggnog.”

_Eggnog?_ He feels something cup like press against his lips and obediently takes a sip, suppressing another cough. It's sweet, and soothes his throat. He start to drink eagerly.

“Whoa, easy there, curly. Here, take it.”

Harry raises his hands to take the cup, finally drinking the last little bit before putting the cup down on the ground next to him . He looks up. Sitting in front of him is a fit boy he's never seen before. Harry thinks this is a little bit strange, as he makes a point of knowing all the fit boys in his school. He inhales deeply, testing his ability to breathe. All clear.

“Who are you?” he asks, giving him a quick once over. He's got nice blue eyes, Harry notes, and fine features, pretty cheekbones and long eyelashes and brown hair that looks soft. The boy in question smiles at him.

“I'm Louis,” he says, and he's got a _pretty voice_. Harry finds himself nodding in understanding, as if the boy's name explains everything that has happened within the last ten minutes. “I've got a free period right now, and I heard you coughing from across the hall. It sounded quite bad, so I decided to help when I saw you go into the bathroom,” Louis says. Harry doesn't know what to say to that. He's never had anyone do anything like that for him before.

“Erm- thanks?” Louis' grin gets even wider.

“No problem!” he chirps brightly, getting up from the floor and offering Harry a hand. The curly haired boy takes it graciously, shivering slightly as their skin touches. He opens his mouth to quickly thank him again and then leave, remembering the test, but instead is met with a feeling in his throat that has gotten a little too familiar to him within the last few minutes.

Immediately, he drops to his knees again, coughing harder than ever before.

“Well, shit,” he hears Louis mutter. Harry is beyond embarrassed at this point, and he's pretty sure he's dying, but things are beyond his control.

He hears liquid being poured, and once again a cup is pressed to his lips. More eggnog. He takes the cup graciously and sips at it, feeling the liquid relieve his throat once again, stopping his cough.

“You know, you really shouldn't be in school.”

“I know. I was just supposed to be here to take a test, and then I was going to leave.”

Louis nods, still looking unconvinced. “You're very sick, though. You're going to get other people sick.”

Harry blushes guiltily, putting down the cup. The eggnog, he's now noted, is actually quite good. He can taste cinnamon and nutmeg and other spices in it that make it tasty.

“Uh- what's with the eggnog?” he asks, changing the subject.

Louis huffs out a little laugh. “Well, it's not really eggnog, exactly, but it tastes like it, so that's what I call it. See, my little sisters have been begging for it since the start of November, but it traditionally has alcohol and raw eggs in it, so my mum kind of. Changed it, a little. I don't know what she did, really. She says it's “kid safe” now, though, and it tastes just like the real thing, so. Oh, I probably should have asked if you're allergic to anything before I made you drink it! Oh, well, you don't look like you're dying to me. Actually, you look a lot better, 'cos you're not yacking up a lung, and that. Anyway. She made, like, a huge batch, so I've been carrying it around in these-” Louis holds up a two-liter bottle of (sort of) eggnog that Harry didn't notice until now, “and I've just been giving it out to people, really.”  
Harry honestly cannot believe his ears. This absolute wonder of a boy seems to have come out of nowhere, and is babbling to him like they've known each other for years.

Harry ruffles his hair with his hand out of habit. “What year are you in, Louis?”

Louis looks amused. “Full of questions today, aren't we?” he teases, making Harry look down shyly at the patterned tile of the bathroom stall they're still crammed in. “Well, if you must know, I'm in year 13.”

That's two years above Harry, then. Harry checks his phone to see the time. He groans, burying his head in his hands.

“Oh, _fuck_. I'm never going to finish now.”

Louis looks at him, confusion evident on his face. “If I were you, I'd be more worried about getting better before Christmas. The holidays are shit when you're sick.”

Harry sighs. He really has no clue what to do at this point.

He must really be looking like shit at this point, as he feels Louis' hand rub slow circles across his back for the third time that day. (If Harry were thinking about it, he'd notice how it actually feels quite nice, feeling Louis' calm, warm presence comforting him, but he definitely doesn't. That would be inappropriate. He's only just met Louis.)

“Here. I'll help you to class, maybe you can figure something out,” he hears Louis say. He feels the hand on his back return. He looks up to see Louis standing above him, hand stroking in a gesture that makes him feel oddly safe.

Louis lightly holds Harry's arm as they make their way to Harry's class, making sure Harry does not start coughing again. Harry peers into the room. His teacher spots him immediately, a look of relief spreading across her face. She glances at the classroom where students are still writing the test, and runs over to Harry's desk, grabbing his coat and his backpack from where they are slung over the back of his chair. Harry is very thankful that he decided to put all his stuff there earlier this morning, shuddering inwardly at the inevitable coughing fit that would have come from walking up the stairs to his locker. The teacher then quietly goes outside to meet them, shutting the door behind her.

“Harry! Are you alright? You sounded so sick out there.”

Harry opens his mouth to speak. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a cold hand come up to cover his mouth. Louis takes over, speaking to Harry's teacher in a horribly melodramatic voice.

“Don't you _dare_ speak now, Harry, or you'll start again! Ms. Robson, poor Harry here is in a bit of a situation. He's quite sick, and he really should be at home in bed right now. However, being the committed student he is, he told me that he needed to finish your test first-”

“You poor little thing,” Ms. Robson cries. Harry blushes, glancing at Louis who is obviously suppressing a smile. “You clearly need to focus on getting better more than anything else- especially before Christmas. Don't you worry your little head about it, I'll just remove it from your grade and it won't count. Consider it a gift from me. Our little secret.” She winks at the two boys. Louis looks extremely pleased, and Harry- well, Harry's head hurts, his nose is running, and he's probably going to start coughing again any second- but he manages a smile anyway.

“Thanks, Miss,” Louis says, “That's really nice of you. Here, Harry, I'll drive you home.”

_Wait, what?_ The last thing Harry sees is his teacher smiling fondly at the two of them before he's pulled away gently by Louis.

Immediately, the blue eyed boy starts talking, an endless stream of chatter falling from his lips.

“Do you need to go to your locker? Oh, wait. You've got your stuff, never mind. My stuff's still in the bathroom, so if we could just pop on over there for a second- actually, you know what, you wait here, I'll get my stuff and take you straight over to my car. Minimal movement, less chance of coughing, right? Yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

Without waiting for any response from Harry, Louis hurries off the the bathroom, leaving Harry standing awkwardly in the middle of the hallway. A few minutes later, Louis is back, backpack slung around his shoulders and coat hanging off his arm.

“We'll have to hurry, the bell's going to ring in, like, four minutes,” Louis mutters, leading Harry to the parking lot. He opens the car door for Harry, who is too tired to protest, his mind focused solely on not coughing in Louis' face. In the car, Harry decides to make good use of his time and get a good look at the mysterious hyper eggnog boy who is now driving him home, to make sure that in his previous oxygen-lacking state he wasn't hallucinating how fit the boy was. After he mutters his address, he glances up, trying to be as subtle as possible while still having a clear view of Louis.

Okay, so, he wasn't imagining things earlier, this boy really is sexy. Okay. Good to know.

He smiles to himself, the oddness of the situation baffling him, but at the same time, giving him a strange sense of joy. He supposes it could be a lot worse. He may feel like complete crap, but at least there's a fit boy who seems awfully eager to take care of him.

The drive goes by fast, and, surprisingly, with minimal speaking or coughing. He's a little disappointed when Louis pulls up by his front door- he'd been enjoying his little inspection.

“Is this it?” Louis asks, gesturing to the house.

“Yeah.” Harry answers slowly.

Louis smiles (from what Harry's gathered in the not-quite-an-hour they've spent together, Louis is a pretty smiley kinda guy). “Good. Listen, I- This is going to sound weird, but do you think I could have your number? You were a mess when I found you in the toilets and you still look pretty pale, to be honest with you, no offense or anything, and. Well, I just want to make sure you'll be okay. I won't share it with anyone, I promise.”

Harry is taken aback. No stranger has ever been this concerned about him before. Does he really look that bad? He checks his reflection in the car mirrors just to make sure. He looks fairly normal, just a bit tired and pale, like Louis said. Maybe he just looks like shit all the time, and Louis thinks that his natural face is what looks severely sick. Maybe-

“Harry?”

_Shit. Focus._ He shakes his head a bit, forcing a laugh. “Yeah, sorry, just zoned out there for a bit. Er- yeah, sure, I guess. Thanks.”

Louis gets Harry to type his number into his phone with shaking hands.

“Alright, then, thanks! Are you good from here?”

Harry nods.

“Good. I'll text you. Keep me posted on how you're doing! Bye.” Louis waves. Harry manages to spit out a quick thank-you for the ride (but quickly finds himself speechless again when Louis gives him a cheeky sink in return,) grabs his stuff, and heads towards his door, gaping at Louis' car as he drives off. He's still not one hundred percent sure if he'd just imagined everything that just happened to him, or if he'd passed out halfway through his biology test. He hopes it's the former. Louis is pretty.

–

_**Hiya :) Feeling any better?** _

Harry stares at the text, unsure of how to reply. He's really not feeling much better than this morning (aside from the fact that he is currently not coughing his insides out), but he doesn't want to seem too glum about it- he doesn't want Louis to think he's a really negative person. On the other hand, if he seems too positive about the whole thing, Louis will see right through him, as he saw him this morning and he knows how sick he is. Realizing how ridiculous he is being- _he's acting like a teenage girl, for fuck's sake_ \- he chooses to avoid the question altogether and get to the point.

**Hi, I went to the doctor. I have bronchitis.**

As soon as he's sent the text, Harry lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He waits anxiously for a reply, which comes just a few minutes later.

_**Oh no, that sucks! Get well soon!** _

Harry smiles to himself. Louis cares about him. He mentally slaps himself for being so stupid. I _t's just a crush, it's never going to go anywhere._

**Thanks :)** is his final reply before he's plugging in his phone and rolling over in bed, falling into a deep sleep with thoughts of getting better so he can see a certain blue-eyed boy.

–

“Mph.”

Harry rolls over as his mother shakes his shoulder softly.

“Wake up, dear. Your friend is here.”

And, okay, what? He opens his eyes and glances over at the clock on his bedside table. 8:48. Well. Niall is never awake this early on the weekend, and Liam always goes to the gym. He opens his eyes reluctantly, stretching his back. Who would want to see him? Unless-

“Hi, Harry.”

Harry freezes.

The boy standing in his doorway takes a step forward.

“I brought tea. It's pumpkin chai.”

Harry can't fucking believe this. Who even _is_ Louis?

“Oh, that is just- how nice of you! Harry, make sure you say thank you. Anyway- he's awake, so I'll just leave you two now. Tell me if you get hungry, alright, Louis?”

The boy in question lets out a soft chuckle, cheeks going slightly pink. “Alright, miss. Thank you.”

Anne nods and exits the room. Harry is completely silent, gaze fixed on a spot in front of him on the comforter, which is still wrapped around his body.

Louis hesitantly takes a step forward. “Um. Hi. Tea?”

Harry's head snaps up instantly. “Er- Yes. I- tea sounds nice, actually.”

Louis' face instantly breaks into a grin, his eyes sparkling, and Harry is entranced. He is handed the tea, taking the thermos from Louis' petite hands, and takes a sip.

“Um. Wow. This is. This is really good.” He's being totally truthful. It's sweet, but not sickening, and the ratio of pumpkin to spice is perfect.

Louis nods his head in a sharp, quick movement. “Great! I'm glad you like it. I saw it at this little tea shop by my house the other day, and it just smelled so good, I had to pick up some. Then, I remembered you, and tea always makes people feel better, right? At least, that's what I think. So, I got a little extra to share.”

Harry stares.

Suddenly, Louis seems a lot less confident than he was a few seconds ago. “Sorry, I- Is this too much? I mean, we really just met, and, well, my friends tell me I tend to come on too strong a lot of the time. I don't mean to come off that way, I just. Like people around me, I guess, and you seem really nice, from the few things I heard about you at school, and I just felt so bad after that horrible morning you must have had, you seemed so sick, and then you said you had bronchitis and usually tea makes me feel better. Wait I said that already, didn't I? So anyway, I just went into the tea shop and I thought of you and I don't even know whether you like pumpkin or not- you don't have to lie about it, by the way-” he takes a deep gasping breath, “but yeah _.”_

Harry doesn't know how to reply. He just woke up and now he's being given tea by some guy he barely even knows. He doesn't want to be rude, Louis appears to have nothing but good intentions, but- _it's all quite weird, isn't it?_

He takes a long pause, carefully choosing his words as he speaks. “No, it. I mean, yeah, having someone come over like this after I just met them is kind of-” he searches for the right word- “different, I'll admit, but, you brought me very delicious tea, and who am I to refuse a perfectly good Christmas drink?” he pauses for a split second, deciding, fuck it, then adds on, “especially when it's from a fit boy like you.” It's a lame, stupid reply, his last point careless and not even the least bit charming, but it seems to please Louis, who smiles again, apparently taking his words as an invitation to sit on the edge of Harry's bed.

“You're not so bad-looking yourself, you know. You've got that whole cutesy teenager thing going on, I like it.”

Harry smiles shyly into his tea, hearing Louis let out a quiet giggle as he does so.

He likes where this is going.

–

Louis is really fucking cute, is the thing. He loves to talk, and once he gets going on one thing he can't seem to stop, his little hands animatedly making gestures as he bounces around from one subject to the next. Sometimes he stumbles over his words, and his eyebrows furrow in frustration as he tries to speak as fast as he's thinking. Harry can't help but chuckle whenever that happens, which just winds Louis up even more.

And, yeah, Harry has to interrupt Louis if he ever wants to get a word in, but its okay, Louis understands, and Harry enjoys listening to Louis' constant stream of chatter.

Since Louis invited himself over to the younger boy's house, he has been the only thing on Harry's brain. For the first few days after Louis brought tea, Harry banned him from coming over, as he didn't want to get him sick. They texted constantly, though, and soon, they found themselves in each other’s homes, Harry not quite ready to do anything that would put too much stress on his lungs, but just enjoying one another's presence, chatting about anything and everything.

Harry knows it's only been about a week since he first met Louis, but he feels like he's known him much longer. He feels like there is some inexplicable chemistry between them, and he can't help but hope for things to turn into something more with the other boy.

–

It is Wednesday, December 24th, and Harry feels like a new man. The antibiotics have finally kicked in, and he is having considerably less uncontrollable coughing fits than he was a few days ago. Of course, he still needs to take it easy, but, overall, he's just really happy that he's feeling so much better. He is eager to finally get outside his bedroom and start actually enjoying his time off.

He is just about to text Niall to see if he's around for the afternoon when his thoughts drift to Louis. He erases the text and writes a new one, pressing send before he can regret it. Just seconds later, his phone dings, making his stomach lurch.

_**Hey! What's going on?** _

It's too late to back out now. He stares at the text from Louis until his eyes water, forcing him to blink.

**Feeling a lot better today, actually. Was wondering if you were doing anything tonight? I've been going nuts sitting around at home all day.**

He waits for a response. Seven minutes pass agonizingly slow. He panics, about to text Louis again, when he gets a new message. He opens it with hasty fingers, breathing heavily.

_**I'm available after eight tonight. How about we go skating? They've got that holiday thing on at the rink today :)** _

“Yeah, that'd be really nice,” Harry giggles, shutting his mouth in embarassment when he realizes that _oh, yeah, Louis isn't actually here with him right now._ He hurriedly types it out. Louis' reply comes alarmingly fast.

_**Okay, it's a date :) I'll pick you up at eight!** _

_Well, fuck._

–

“Here, hold on to my arm.”

Harry seriously has no clue how he's going to survive the night. Ever since Louis' last text, Harry's been _freaking the fuck out._ A _date_? Louis is attracted to _him_? Unless he read the text wrong, or, like, maybe Louis had some sort of autocorrect mistake-

He sucks in a breath, remembering that _oh, yeah, he's on said “date” with incredibly fit Louis right now,_ and _he would benefit from actually listening to what he's saying._

“Sorry?”

Louis laughs quietly under his breath. “You know, because you've been so sick, and you're finally better, and I don't want you to fall and injure yourself. You know, because that would ruin everything.”

Harry pauses for a moment. “What makes you think I'll fall?”

This seems to make Louis flustered. He shifts awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “I- I don't, I-” for once, he is struggling for words. “It's not that, just. Imagine, like, if you did. That would suck.”

Harry nods in agreement, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

“So, how has your day been?” It's a pretty uninteresting question, but it's the best he could do on such short notice.

“Good, thanks. Got gifts from my sisters.” Louis smiles fondly. “The twins drew me little cards, it was cute.”

_You're cute,_ Harry wants to say, but manages to refrain. “Presents? Isn't it a bit early for that?”

Louis' eyes open comically wide, making Harry panic. Did he say something wrong?

“Oh, did I not tell you? It's my birthday today!”

And, well, _fuck._ They aren't even an into their date and Harry's already gone and _messed things up._

“Oh? Hap- Happy birthday. Erm- you didn't tell me, actually. I- I would have gotten you something if I'd known,” Harry says, pouting a little. (And, if somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice asks, _why isn't this boy with his family if it's his birthday?_ Harry ignores it.)

“It's no problem! You can always give me a little birthday kiss later,” Louis says casually with a little wink, and, _okay, so, this must be a date. Right? Right._

Harry is stares, mesmerized as Louis steps onto the ice in one swift movement, skating off elegantly. He tries to mimic the older boy's actions, but slips about two steps in. He manages to end up on the bottom of a large pile of children who, in their it's-almost-Christmas frenzy, are yelling some stupid shit about Father Christmas and some sort of elf who visits people's shelves. _Great._

He struggles to get up, pushing and pulling kids off of him as gently as he can. He stands up, quite proud of himself (though secretly hoping that Louis didn't see much), and- slips again.

“You remind me of a baby deer who's still learning to walk.”

Harry glances up. “Thanks.”

Louis huffs out a laugh. “No, it's cute. You're like a little fawn. Here, let me help you.”

With a small giggle, he pulls Harry up by the arm, who has managed to get himself covered in snow. Louis gives him a quick once-over, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Have you ever gone ice skating before?” He inquires.

Harry blushes bright red.“Yeah.”

Louis nods slowly. “Right. Well. You aren't very good.”

Harry doesn't know what to say. They haven't even gone around the rink once yet and he's already gone and screwed up. He sighs.

“Oh, don't look so down, I was only joking with you. Just hold onto my arm, like that. There.”

Harry looks at Louis in surprise, sucking in a little breath of air. The more experienced skater nods in encouragement, pulling Harry along, tugging by the sleeve of his jacket. Harry goes willingly, green eyes wide, trying to keep his squeal as many as possible as they round their first corner. Louis starts speaking.

 

An hour (or maybe two) later, and Louis has managed to lead Harry safely around the rink a total of thirteen times (albeit quite slowly at first, but they sped up a bit as time went on). Louis has also managed to charm Harry yet again and turn him into a blushing, stuttering mess more times than either of them can count. With anyone else, Harry probably would have ended the date long ago, but, well, Louis is funny, and he seems to find Harry's dopiness endearing.

Louis is standing next to him on the bleachers, staring at some siblings on the rink who appear to have stolen their brother's scarf, tossing it between them. Harry bites his lip, breathing deeply as he takes in Louis' profile. His hair is tucked under a blue beanie, the ends just peaking out from underneath, flipping up just enough to look artfully messy. His face looks content, a small smile on his slightly chapped lips, his eyes half closed. Harry closes his own eyes. _C'mon, man. You got this._

He takes a step closer to Louis. His mouth feels dry. “I hope you enjoyed your birthday,” he starts tentatively, “I, uh. I did. Enjoy tonight, I mean.” he clenches his fists, feeling the urge to punch something after that awkwardly phrased ending.

Louis turns towards him, adjusting his beanie with delicate fingers. “Yeah, thanks, Harry, I really enjoyed tonight, too.”

Harry nods a few times. “Yeah, good. Um. Good.”

It's silent for a few moments.

“Oh, just kiss me already, you stupid curly-headed oaf.”

That is the last thing he hears before he's overwhelmed by _Louis_ , soft lips pressed to his, petite hands carding through his hair. He kisses back as soon as he realizes what's going on, letting his eyes flutter closed, pulling Louis closer. It's a very innocent kiss, closed mouth and gentle, so sweet, and Harry wants to kiss this boy like this forever, wants to breathe him in and whisper sweet things into his ear, wants to make sure he is loved.

Slowly, Louis breaks their kiss, staring up into Harry's eyes. Louis' own blue eyes are open wide, and Harry would be more concerned with the pondering look on the older boy's face if he didn't feel like he was drowning in Louis' irises, being swallowed whole by the ocean.

Harry is the first to speak. “Wow.”

Louis clears his throat, removing his hands from Harry's curls but not moving back. “Yeah, um. You're a very good kisser.” he says. He blinks rapidly a few times. “That was very nice. We should do that again. Sorry about being... aggressive, at the beginning.”

Harry presses his lips together, holding in a laugh. “No problem, Lou. I- I needed a little encouragement.”

Louis smiles at that, leaning into Harry until their foreheads are pressed together.

“You're really cute. I fancy you a lot, you know,” he states somewhat randomly, causing Harry to giggle softly and pull Louis in for another kiss.

–

 

It's Christmas morning, Harry is sitting around the tree with his family, and all he can think about is Louis.

Everything after their kiss was a blur. Louis had unlaced Harry's skates for him while grinning up at him fondly, Harry grinning back even wider. Harry had bought them hot chocolate, because _winter drinks were kind of their thing_ (though he's still not sure how that happened, he's deciding to just go with it). Louis had driven Harry home, walking him to his doorstep like a proper gentlemen and leaning up on his tiptoes to press one last lingering kiss to Harry's lips with a whisper of _you make me so happy_ falling from his lips, and then he was gone.

Harry is so fucking gone for this boy who he met in the toilets, who gave him a fucking thermos full of egg nog for Christ's sake, and then showed up in his room with ridiculous Pumpkin tea. He has no idea how Louis managed to worm his way into Harry's life so quickly. All Harry knows is that it's Christmas, and he's happy, and he wants to text Louis, but he has to wait because his mom already told him off twice this morning for going on his phone, and the last thing he needs is to have it taken away.

By lunchtime, all of his gifts are opened, and he must have said “Merry Christmas!” about fifty times by now. He can smell the turkey cooking in the oven. He sighs in contentment, plopping himself down on his couch right next to his tree, feeling his phone in his back pocket.

It buzzes.

**Hey little fawn :) Merry Christmas! You'd better be over here by nine at the latest. Be prepared, there may or may not be a mistletoe hanging above my door.**

He smiles, tucking his phone back in his pocket, already craving the feeling of Louis' lips on his. He's only known Louis for a little while, and maybe they're taking things much too fast, but he feels like he could fall in love with this boy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, this is so unrealistic and ridiculous, really, and definitely not the best thing I have ever written, but I was feeling festive and I wanted to write a silly little fic for Christmas. (Better late than never).  
> The title is from Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran (obvs).  
> I would like to give a very, very big thank you to the incredible Meg (lourytwitcam on Tumblr!) for beta'ing this. You're amazing!  
> Since this is my first fic ever, comments would be greatly appreciated! I always like to know where I can improve :)  
> Finally, if you did just so happen to like it, and you just so happen to be reading this, it would be absolutely lovely if you followed my Tumblr at http://promisingstyles.tumblr.com/. (You don't have to, of course. No pressure).


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